Fireworks
by Blood Dark Sun
Summary: Romano hates meetings, and when England's the host, he's more conflicted than usual. Rated M for the sexual theme...sort of "smut lite."
1. Fireworks

_This doesn't belong in any of my other universes._

_..._

Romano lay alone in his hotel room, naked and playing with himself. He'd demanded a room alone this time, because England was hosting the meeting, and, dammit, well, he always got turned on by that fiery island temper. He pinched his nipples now, delaying more obvious gratification. He imagined a rough-and-tumble argument with the violent blond, shouting and shoving each other around, and oh, God, didn't that sound good...England was the only bastard nation he'd ever met that Romano felt could match his own temper, and that was a hell of a turn-on. His hands drifted south, clasping and squeezing his cock, tracing little circles on his most sensitive parts.

And today England had lived up to every one of Romano's intense fantasies. America had been stupid, as usual, and England had yelled at him and others; when France had tried groping the island nation, he'd shoved the pervert away, red-faced and extremely angry. Dammit, Romano was on fire for the bastard, and he knew he'd never have the chance to approach him, so he writhed here alone on his hotel bed and stroked himself to an explosive orgasm while he thought about the angry athletic times he and England could have, alone together in a big soft bed...

He cried out as he came, though he didn't quite dare to call out England's name. Even though he was totally alone, he'd feel stupid about that.

Panting, he cleaned himself up and wondered which lucky nation the blond was fucking tonight. Dammit.

…

The next day Romano wore a very tight pair of pants to the meeting. _Not_ so that he could catch England's eye and lure him on. Not at all. He wanted to feel that tantalizing pressure on his cock all throughout the meeting, while he watched the island nation try to keep his temper and fail. At lunchtime he'd slip back to his room and beat off, and – and –

England called the meeting to order, and for a little while, at least, all the nations behaved.

Romano had only come to this meeting because of England, not because he cared about the damn meeting agenda. So he ignored everything, daydreaming a little, his eyes on the blond. Every now and then a particularly juicy thought would make him lick his lips, or squirm a little in his seat, but nobody was antagonizing the island nation this morning, so there was no fighting to help him spur on his fantasies.

At the lunch break he did indeed sneak back to his room to indulge in a little fantasizing. A lot of fantasizing. Afterwards, he was completely exhausted, but he forced himself back to the meeting.

During the afternoon session Spain was acting idiotic – as usual – and several nations tried to shut him up, but not Romano. He wanted England to flare up in anger at his old enemy.

But it seemed that the blond was holding onto his temper, if only by a thread. He ground his teeth, rolled his eyes, and spoke brutally yet slowly to the stupid tomato bastard, to get him to shut up.

The meeting adjourned for the day. Romano got up and watched the other nations, including England and America, filter out of the room; he stretched, trying to figure out what to do for dinner.

"_Hola_, Lovi," Spain said, sneaking up behind him.

"Don't '_hola_ Lovi' me," he said, his usual response, but with less venom than usual, because his mind was still on the island nation.

Spain put his hands on Romano's ass and squeezed. "I love these pants," he grinned.

"Chigi! Let go of me, fucker!" Dammit, that was all he needed, stupid Spain putting the moves on him while he was busy fantasizing about England.

And yet Spain was too stupid to take the hint. "Come on, Lovi. Let's go play together?" The bastard smiled sweetly at the infuriated Romano.

"Bastard, get the hell away. I'm not interested!" Romano backed up against the wall.

"Lovi, we haven't been to bed together in so long – "

"That does it, you goddamn idiot!" Romano kicked him in the shin and tried to leave the room but Spain grabbed him. "Dammit! Let go!"

Neither of them noticed England coming back into the room – until that nation grabbed Spain by his hair and gave a yank. "He wants you to let go, wanker. I'd do what he says," England said in a mature, calm tone. "You know what his temper's like." The blond idly examined the fingernails on his other hand. "And then, you also know what my temper is like, don't you? If you think I'll let you molest an unwilling nation at one of my meetings –" He yanked on Spain's hair again.

"_Tío_, don't pull my hair," Spain whimpered. Romano backed up against the wall again. He'd never seen England so collected, yet still so angry, before. And he was defending Romano! Dammit, these pants were too fucking tight…

"Get out," England said, shoving Spain towards the door. "Leave him alone."

Spain narrowed his eyes at England, and then gave Romano a pleading look, which the half-nation did not return. "Go," Romano barked, and Spain, rubbing his scalp, left.

When the door had closed behind him Romano started to thank the host nation, but before he got further than an indrawn breath, England began yelling at him. "Why do you even let the tosser get that close to you? Bloody hell, Romano, if you don't want him hanging around, don't stick around empty rooms and lure the bugger on!"

Oh, now that was the England he wanted to see, but he wasn't going to stand here and take a fucking lecture from the bastard. "It's not my fault, dammit. No matter what I do, he won't leave me alone!"

"Then stay in a group, or something, git! Whenever you're alone it just gives him the chance to – "

"Iggy?" America stuck his head in the door. "Are we going to dinner or what? Hey, Romano."

Romano nodded but England pushed his hand through his hair and shook his head. "Sorry, America. I'm not feeling like very good company now. Maybe tomorrow."

"Sure, suit yourself. See ya!" The hero left the room, leaving a somewhat deflated England and Romano not meeting each other's eyes.

"Sorry I fucked up your evening," Romano shrugged. _Oh, smooth_, he told himself. _Way to impress him._

"Eh. Didn't want to spend time with bloody America anyway."

"Well, then why the hell were you going to go to dinner with him, stupid? That's worse than what I was doing!" No, Romano was not, absolutely not trying to goad England into an argument.

But dammit, if that happened, maybe –

The island nation looked like he was going to yell at Romano. _Do it,_ the brunet told him mentally. _Let loose. Shower me with that temper._ Dammit, he was going to be up masturbating all night long…

But England got a grip on himself and sank into a chair.

"Bastard?" This was unlike him.

"Too tired to argue," England sighed. "I just want to go to bed for a week and forget about all this."

"I don't have a roommate," Romano blurted in response. Dammit, he was such an awkward fucker…

But England didn't even catch it. "Lucky you." He stood up and headed towards the door. "Come on out of here; I need to lock up for the night."

"Bastard, are you seriously going to be all right?" No, no, no. Romano wasn't concerned about the bastard! He just wanted some more of that explosive anger.

"Eh. Yeah. I'm – I'm just trying to keep my temper, and it's bloody difficult."

"Pfft. Everybody knows you have a hot temper. Why bother hiding it? Just let it out!"

"Because I don't want to frighten you!" England thundered. "Er. Whoops."

Romano started laughing. "You idiot. You really think you could frighten me?"

"Did it in the wartime," England smirked.

"Yeah, you stupid bastard, you fed me your horrible food! No wonder I was frightened!" Romano was scared and angry now, remembering those stressful times.

"Wanker. If you hadn't let yourself get caught, you wouldn't have had that problem!"

"Dammit! You're so fucking full of yourself."

"Don't you think I have a right to be? Greatest empire the world has ever known?" England smirked again, angering Romano.

"You were subordinate to the _Roman_ Empire for a while, you moron!"

"Shut it! I kicked the bloody Romans out in no time, and that was forever ago!"

"Goddamn barbarians!" Romano had forgotten his agenda entirely and was now only intent on winning this argument. "Don't even know why the damn Romans wanted you!"

"Everybody wants me!" England roared.

Romano looked into those angry green eyes and didn't stand a chance. "I know, bastard," he growled, stepping forward and pressing up against the blond, sliding his hands into that messy hair, pressing his lips to the island nation's. "Believe me, I _know_."

England struggled for a second or two but then began to kiss back, reaching his hands around to cup Romano's buttocks. The brunet let go of England's hair and began undressing him right in the conference room.

"Here?" England looked around. "Romano, are you – are you sure you want to do this?"

"Bastard, I fantasize about you every damn day. Of course I do." By now all their clothes were off and England belatedly spared a moment to lock the door. "Come here."

"No," said the naked island nation.

What did he mean, "No"? Look at the fucker's hard-on! "Huh?" was all the equally-aroused Romano could manage.

"Make me," England taunted, though with a little less vitriol than usual.

Oh. His eyes were glued to Romano's erection. Heh. So the bastard wanted to play? "Fine, dammit." Romano grinned his most feral grin and grabbed England by the arms, yanking him closer.

England put up a halfhearted struggle but then sank into Romano's embrace, kissing him desperately. "Teasing git," he murmured, laughing, "why didn't you ever say anything before?"

"Too scared." Romano smiled against the blond's lips. "Someday, bastard, let's have a big fucking fight alone in a bedroom." His hands moved lower, stroking the aroused island nation.

"Fine with me. I love to fight."

"You're sure the damn door's locked?"

"Yes, wanker. The damn door's locked."

"Good."

…

England didn't go back to his townhouse that night.

…

The next morning, Romano came down to the meeting room a little nervous. What if – what if –

England barely acknowledged him when he entered the room. Dammit! He should have known something like this would happen. The hottest night of his entire _existence_ – first here in the conference room, and then in the bed in his hotel room – and now the fucker was going to pretend it hadn't happened.

Well, Romano considered, at least he had had his night of wild sex with the blond. He sighed and sat down, trying to pay attention today.

The meeting progressed much as usual. England lost his temper several times, which made Romano grin a little, but the blond never once looked at him, which continued to depress him.

Finally Prussia teased, "Iggy, what's the matter with you? Your temper's even shorter than usual, today!"

Romano watched the two of them yell at each other. Maybe England was just tense because he hadn't had enough sleep? Heh. Or maybe he was feeling guilty about America, or something. Romano had always thought they were dating.

But as he watched them yell, he saw a slight smirk appear on the island nation's face, and then the green eyes flicked to Romano at his seat. The smirk became a grin as he saw Romano staring, and he escalated the fight a little.

_Oh._ Romano put his hands in his lap. Dammit! He was going to keep that bastard up _all night_ tonight!

…

_Well, I needed to clear up some writer's block. This is the best way to do it!_


	2. Cool Water

**Cool Water.**

At the end of the week both Romano and England were thoroughly exhausted. The blond had barely been able to keep himself awake during the afternoon session on the last day of meetings. But, bloody hell, it had been completely worth it. Absolutely so.

Since Romano hadn't booked his hotel room for the weekend, England had invited him to spend the night at his townhouse, where they'd been playing and fighting every night anyway. Drained, but with a little spark in his eye, the half-nation had accepted the invitation, and they were there now.

"I'm completely beat," Romano told him. "It's been even better than my fantasies."

England gave him a little mysterious smile. "You've had your own way all week, git. Tonight I'm in charge."

Romano raised his eyebrows, but nodded slowly. "As long as I get a nap first. You wouldn't want me to fall asleep in the middle of anything, would you?" he smirked.

"Believe me, wanker, falling asleep will be the last thing on your mind. But, sure. Let's go have a nap." He led his guest up to his master bedroom with its enormous, comfortable bed.

Romano started to strip, but England stopped him. "What?"

"Just – just sleep with your clothes on, all right?"

"Mysterious bastard. Sure. Is it all right if I take off my belt and tie, though?"

"Eh, yes, that's fine." They took off their jackets, belts and ties, then kicked off boots and lay on the bed. Within minutes, both nations were snoring like chainsaws.

…

When England woke up, Romano, still asleep, was snuggled right up next to him. Huh. Every previous night this week it seemed as though Romano had been taking pains to sleep far, far away from England, in the big bed. When they'd actually slept, of course.

The blond lay comfortable and cozy, thinking about this extraordinary week. He'd never suspected Romano was such a sex fiend! Now England could understand why Spain was always after him. Thinking back, other than the frog, though, he couldn't remember any other nation having a particular interest in the brunet. He wondered why. Maybe nobody else wanted to deal with the temper. (Pfft. Child's play. He nearly snorted.)

Or maybe Romano turned them all down. He had eventually explained in detail why he'd been so hot for England, and just speaking the words had gotten him so aroused that they'd had another little bout of wrestling, followed by rough lovemaking, after that. During the past week England had been bruised, bitten, pinched, kicked, and quite thoroughly screwed.

And he'd given as good as he'd got. Romano too had been punched and bitten, thrashed and drained, over the last four days. After their first night together the island nation had given up on biting his nails (his usual method of grooming them) and let them grow a little, and by last night they'd been long enough to rake down his lover's back and leave four significant claw marks, twins to the ones Romano had left on England's inner thighs.

England was surprised at how much he'd enjoyed all this. At first he'd thought it was simply the attention of another nation that was gratifying, but as he and Romano grew to understand and anticipate each other's little sexual quirks, he'd found this to be the most stimulating and rewarding sex he'd ever had. It was indeed exhausting, but bloody hell, it was worth it. Every drop of blood, every aching bruise.

They hadn't spent much "getting to know you" time, except for incidental comments here and there, but he was still hoping this could continue. He'd been surprised – and pleased – that Romano wasn't really the surly child he always appeared to be. No, in the bedroom, the half-nation was a masterful, commanding lover. England shivered a little, feeling the sleeping brunet in his arms, and grinned. He hoped his plans for tonight would work out well.

…

After they'd had a quick meal – which Romano complained about the whole time, but did eat – England led him back upstairs.

Romano poked him in the stomach. "Listen, bastard, what kind of kinky shit are we doing that means we need to keep our clothes on?"

But England stepped closer and embraced him, lowering his voice. "Nothing at all, git. I just want to take it slowly, have a little tenderness, for a change." He began kissing the side of Romano's neck and felt the brunet soften in his arms. "Save our energy."

"Mm," Romano said, already languid, "I – I don't do s-slow and, uh, tender…" But he wasn't struggling.

England drew back and raised an eyebrow. "You will tonight," he cautioned in a stern voice.

The amber eyes flew open. "Uh – uh, yeah, a-all right," he managed, and then with a bit of his usual venom, "Be interesting to try that weak-ass _lovemaking_ shit for a change…"

England ignored this and began undressing him as he kissed and licked Romano's throat, murmuring indistinct syllables. When the half-nation was completely naked, but the blond still clothed, he began kissing his way down Romano's arms and chest, stopping to tease his dark nipples, stroke his hands over the brunet's firm arse, lick the heated skin slowly. Bloody hell…Romano was so hot and his skin so delicious…

He could tell that Romano expected a blow job already. Well, hah. England stood up again, stroking the injuries with his fingertips, teasing Romano lightly everywhere with his hands. The brunet kept trying to press against England, but the island nation backed off. "Undress me. Slowly," he now commanded.

"Dammit," Romano replied, but weakly, as he focused and undressed the blond…slowly. He too spared time to touch and tease, running his tongue over bite marks on the island nation's shoulders, stroking his hips and thighs as he slid the green uniform trousers down. His hand briefly cupped England's balls, but then left off again to reach around and squeeze the blond's arse. "Dammit, I want to bite that ass again," he murmured, but he didn't, didn't speed up or get violent or anything.

England was pleased with that response. "Later," he laughed, kissing Romano very attentively. The tip of his tongue grazed the roof of Romano's mouth and he felt the half-nation shiver in his arms. That was very nice, so he did it again.

"Bastard," Romano breathed, and then did it to him.

Bollocks! That was very nice on the receiving end, too. He squirmed a bit, and Romano pulled him closer. England's hands continued roving, teasing, and other than deep and languid kisses, Romano had stopped all other activity. His hands rested on the island nation's shoulders, pulsing lightly, and his tongue was teasing the hell out of England's – but otherwise, the brunet was still, as if he didn't want to shatter the mood.

"Come to the bed," England murmured, and Romano broke off the kiss and nodded. His pupils were dilated and his movements listless. Oh, England was going to love him thoroughly tonight, and make him see just how good slow lovemaking could be, cool water after the flames.

…

"Mm," Romano said drowsily, later, snuggling close in the bed. "I guess you were right."

"Eh?" England was exhausted too, but very comfortable. He stroked the dark hair softly.

"Slow and – and tender can be good." He turned his face towards England's chest. The island nation peeked and saw him blushing.

"I know," he whispered, kissing Romano's hair. "With the right person."

The brunet stopped breathing for just a second and then began again. "Yeah," he said, quietly, pressing a kiss to the pale skin.

They fell asleep entwined together, warm and safe.

…

_Thanks to Skadiyoko for encouraging me to put up a second chapter._


End file.
